


sticky fingers, stolen heart

by Mertiya



Series: The Lysidetta Chronicles [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: And then discover that you like it very much, Cake, Dessert & Sweets, F/F, First Kiss, Help I've Fallen Into Rarepair Hell And I Can't Get Up, That trope where you lick something off someone's fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: It's Cake Time for Bernie and Lysithea.  And Bernie is very unwilling to let any crumbs go to waste, even if those crumbs happen to be on Lysithea's fingers.
Relationships: Lysithea von Ordelia/Bernadetta von Varley
Series: The Lysidetta Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561123
Comments: 21
Kudos: 54





	sticky fingers, stolen heart

**Author's Note:**

> yeah. uh huh. we're here now. time to just carve out this little niche for myself i guess whoops

It’s Cake Time. That’s how Bernie thinks of it these days, anyway. About once or twice a week, Thea comes by late in the evening and they eat cake together. For a few months, Bernie was still scared, even though Thea was one of the few people who was actually shorter than she was—not by much, they checked, but enough. But lately, she’s noticed that being around Thea is nice. Thea is careful not to scare her, careful to remind her that obviously she can’t kill Bernie because then she wouldn’t get cake anymore. Bernie hasn’t had a _lot_ of interactions with people—she prefers it that way—but she thinks that it’s unusual for someone to do that. Instead of insisting that _obviously_ they’re not going to kill her, Thea has presented a logical reason for it, and she sticks to it.

She’s actually amazing, Bernie thinks as she watches the other girl devour her latest piece of cake with a single-minded ferociousness that reminds Bernie of a small terrier. She always wanted a dog—a little one—to protect her from other people. Her uncle told her stories about the dog he had when he was a little boy, who hated everyone but him and was just always nice to him. That’s Thea. She’s angry at everyone, all the time—and Bernie’s not surprised. She’s learned a few things about how hard Thea works, and a little bit about _why_ , and it hurts her heart just to think about.

It’s a very sticky cake, this one, and Thea is now staring in some consternation at her fingers, which are covered with crumbs and icing. Bernie’s not sure why. Can’t she just lick them off? It’s impolite, but Thea never seems to mind that, and it’s not as if there’s anyone here to impress.

Now Thea is looking around. “Do you have a handkerchief?” she asks Bernie, and, come on, that is a _waste_. It is a waste of those delicious cake crumbs and the remains of that very delicious, very sticky, very sweet icing.

“Aren’t you going to lick it off?” Bernie asks, and Thea blinks at her. “If you don’t want to, I will,” she blurts, and Thea’s eyes go suddenly very round.

“Y-You’ll what?” she stammers.

“There’s no one around,” Bernie points out. “And it’s a terrible waste otherwise.”

Thea opens and shuts her mouth, moving her lips around in a circular gesture Bernie just doesn’t quite understand. “Okay,” she says, suddenly, her chin squaring as if she’s made a decision, and she holds out her sticky fingers.

Bernie realizes as soon as they’re in her mouth that this wasn’t quite what she bargained for, somehow. It’s really sweet, and the crumbs and icing are really good—and it really would have been a shame to just wipe them off—but something about the challenging way Thea is staring at her, something about the way her pale cheeks are going ruddy and her reddish eyes are turning dark tells Bernie she did something she isn’t sure she meant to.

On the other hand—she likes it. She likes the feeling of those small fingers, as well as the taste, and the heat of them. After she’s licked off every conceivable little crumb—mapping the ridges and bumps and fingerprints—she lets her tongue dart out and caress the spot between Thea’s index and third finger. Thea gives a shocked little gasp, and for half an instant her eyes slide shut and she goes still. Bernie likes that very much indeed.

Then Thea opens her eyes, and Bernie can’t read her expression, and she pulls back, suddenly afraid she’s done something wrong. A little afraid she’s broken something, or Thea is mad. She’s going to yell or hit Bernie, or maybe—possibly—unlikely—try to kill her?

“Sorry!” Bernie squeaks, trying to back away all of a sudden, but she’s on the edge of the bed and she overbalances. She’s going over backwards, and she’s expecting to land painfully flat on her back on the floor, but Thea’s got _reflexes_ from all her sword work, and Bernie jerks to a stop at a forty-five degree angle with Thea’s hand fisted firmly in the front of her uniform blouse. For some reason, despite the fact she feels like she’s about to fall, Bernie also likes this very much.

Thea swallows, holding her like that, safe, sturdy, floating on open air, and then she says, in a voice that’s only a little wobbly, “You have crumbs on your mouth.”

“I—I do?”

Thea nods. “Can I—” Her eyes flick to Bernie’s mouth.

Oh. _Oh_. What? Is that even a _thing_? Can girls—

“Yes,” Bernie squeaks, because she suddenly realizes she would very much like to find out if girls _can_.

There’s a moment of vertigo as Thea pulls her back upright and Thea’s other hand encircles her back, and then Thea’s lips are on hers, soft and clumsy. They’re sweeter than the cake. They’re warm. Bernie squeaks and gasps and then, somehow, she has her own clumsy arms around Thea, and—

They’re kissing. This is a kiss. This—this is Bernie’s _first_ kiss. And it’s so warm and soft and sweet.

So, yes, Bernie thinks to herself. It turns out girls really can. They really can. And it’s wonderful.


End file.
